


The price of an empty title

by ChampionShirogane



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Fighting, How It Began, Imprisonment, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Svendak, The Champion, Torture, possible galra commander shiro in the making, the price of an empty title
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-03
Updated: 2016-08-25
Packaged: 2018-07-29 00:38:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7663390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChampionShirogane/pseuds/ChampionShirogane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shiro's facade of being a bloodthirsty champion leads to some unwanted turn of events. Can he maintain his humanity as he tries to live up to his fake reputation?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to explore what Shiro may have gone through while in captivity, I've just been having so many thoughts about it lately. Also it's a quick test to see if I could write something that wasn't 'shippy' in content. Later chapters may become a little more graphic and explicit but I'll warn and change tags accordingly if it does go that direction.
> 
> Edit: okay so Svendak is on the horizon as I'm weak.

There was something almost soothing about the coldness of the cell floor against his bruised swollen cheek, at least there was nobody around to see the pitiful state he was in, after all he was the champion. An empty title. He never wished for it, yet here he was, discarded and alone in solitary confinement as he was deemed too dangerous to the other prisoners and slaves.   
In the beginning he had been kept in a cramped cell with Matt and fifty other life forms, some were humanoid and others...Not so much, but the one thing that had bound them, the sole thing that linked them all was that they had been imprisoned for the amusement of the Galra, their master? Ruler? Overlord? Shiro wasn't too great on the details if that particular races society, but either way Zarkon was a cruel, power hungry individual that liked pitting on quite the show for his Galra brethren. Now all he felt was isolated and tense as he inwardly prayed for Matt to have been taken to safety, perhaps he'd been reunited with his father.... 

/Please/ The 'Champion's eyes scrunched tightly shut as he attempted to force the residual image of the younger Holt staring back at him wide eyed with fear as he clutched his bleeding appendage, not only him but the array of aliens... Fellow slaves had stood there in shock as they watched what seemed like Shiro snapping, caving into some animalistic need to blood lust and glory, though that was the plan at first. His intention was to prevent Matt from having to fight, he was a scientist, much like his father and had minimal self defence training, coupled with the fact he was generally good natured would only have caused him to wind up crippled or dead. Shiro couldn't bear seeing that happen, Matt had a mother and a little sister waiting back on Earth for his and Dr Holt's safety. If it meant that his crew... or safer to say his friends were kept far away from the arena then he'd play the bloodthirsty monster for as long as it took. The only problem was that it was exhausting to keep the charade going, he missed having company, he missed Matt, he even missed the aliens he'd befriended prior to his first victory....Now they only looked at him though cold, fearful eyes as though they hadn't shared stories of hope, tales of their friends and families, they'd all bonded but sadly it was fickle. All it had taken was one brief moment where he'd fought against his own better nature and attacked the scared scientist, even now he remembered the feeling of the blade tearing into Matt's shin, the erratic heart beating against his own larger frame and those hurried ragged breaths leaving his friends parched lips. That was true fear, and it was all aimed at him. 

“Take care of your father.” Had been Shiro's parting words as he was then dragged into the arena to somehow battle that brute of a creature, he prayed that his last desperate attempt to make his intentions known and understood had gotten through to him. 

Guilt took a form hold over Shiro as he was consumed with a burning need to apologize, he'd never in a million years imagined that he'd ever strike Matt, let alone wound him. 

What if the cut was too deep? Had been the biggest of his concerns, what if he'd damaged the promising scientists leg permanently? Could he still walk on it? Had it gotten infected? Had it been cleaned up? Such thoughts were starting to drive him crazy as he stared into the darkness. The only thing breaking up his pitch black surroundings was a small rectangle of light that illuminated part of the grubby floor and part of his shin. 

Despite the extra room that solitary confinement offered him there were no actual benefits to his change in accommodation, there were no clocks so each passing day was a blur, he could have been in there a couple of days, maybe several weeks and he still wouldn't have any concept of time. It was bare, not even a crude bed and absolutely nothing to stimulate himself with as remained alone with his thoughts, the only things keeping his mind and body sharp was exercise and how intently he'd watch the changing of the guard through his little window, by this point it have become almost an obsession as he extracted any and all information he could from his captors. Some had been drones, others actual Galran soldiers however those were nothing compared to the ones calling themselves 'Druids'. Those were on a whole other level as they eerily seemed to glide down the stark corridors of the ship he and the other slaves had been herded onto. Shiro was not the kind to get scared so easily, but those masked beings just radiated danger, it was as though the very air itself crackled with their energy every time they stopped by. The prisoner had lost count of how many times when he'd allowed himself a quiet slumber only to wake to see a creepy masked face staring through the peep hole, their visits becoming all the more frequent with each of his victories.   
The solution in theory would be simple... Just stop winning. However the catch was by losing would mean his death, then they'd move back onto pitting the weaker prisoners against fiends and monsters alike- He couldn't allow it, wouldn't allow it.   
For now Shiro would continue to fight, and continue to win no matter how broken his body became, the only thing he could think about in the coliseum would be victory or death. 

/Victory or death.../ He wondered where he'd heard such a phrase, it had been recently, at first he'd thought it had been a line from a movie, yet the uncomfortable yet unexplainable emotion it evoked within him suggested it was something more sinister. 

Shiro froze up, he finally realised that he'd heard the Galran commander,... Sendak? bellow it on a number of occasions. He honestly wanted to throw up in his mouth a little as it dawned on him that he was starting to think like them. 

“I need to get out of here.” He rasped, his throat dry through dust and lack of water as he dragged his battered body to the door, everything hurt, he was filthy and the tattered over shirt of his slave garb was stiff with dried blood. He was sure most of it wasn't his own, now there was a disturbing thought. 

Slowly he got to his feet before charging at the metal door, his voice straining as something within him had snapped, expletives, threats all made at his captors as he crashed his body over and over again. His shoulders bloodied and bruised but desperation to save a part of his sanity and the need to save his friends overrode his usual cool, rational train of thought, his role as 'The Champion' had finally taken its toll on him. 

It wasn't long before Shiro's outburst had sent a ripple down the hall, enticing some of the other prisoners to raise their voices in fear ,rage or defiance, the voices of the wronged rose in a chorus. Different tones, pitches and tongues aired their feelings. Sentiments varying from wanting to return home, wanting their own deaths or the deaths of their captors, the anguished wails and guttural roars were deafening,causing blood to pound at Shiro's temples. He wasn't alone. 

It wasn't long before the hallway was filled to the brim with Galra troops and drones, they hadn't even needed to hesitate as they made a B-line for Shiro's cell, he was the problem prisoner, the one most likely to rebel if pushed too hard. As far as such a 'squishy' species such as humans Shiro had certainly shown incredible mental fortitude and resilience. The Druids and the Galran commanders had pondered if all Earthlings showed such spirit, however such notions had been extinguished when he'd been compared to the two Holt men. Not that it made his situation any better, nor did he feel blessed or fortunate either. 

The door to his cell bust open and he fell through the opening with a heavy 'thud', Shiro was too hyped on adrenaline to register the pain as he body slammed into the first wave of guards only to get bashed across the jaw by the butt of an enemy gun. He'd certainly felt that as he howled out in pain, a white haze impaired his vision momentarily as he continued swinging his fists, landing a few blows before being over powered. 

This time one Galran soldier attempted to pin him down only for the the man to use his size and momentum to send him flying over him, but not before snagging his assailants knife. I wasn't particularly large, but it was sharper than anything he'd ever handled back on earth, and having at least something to defend himself with was better than the absolute nothing he'd had mere moments before. There was something reassuring about the weight of the blade in his hand, his mind cleared as he shakily got to his feet, ready to seek out the first opening in his enemies stance in order to make his escape. 

In that moment of clarity he realised that taking them on in a fir of desperation hadn't been the brightest idea he'd had, usually he was so logically minded , it was just a shame that his powers of critical thinking had gone blank for those few minutes. And now he was surrounded and out matched with no option of backing down. 

/Well isn't this great?/ Shiro scowled as one guard stepped forward brandishing a knife of his own, it was clear that he thought that fighting Shiro would prove entertaining, that perhaps taking down the 'champion' would be quite the feat and such an achievement would seemed too good an opportunity to pass up. 

“You're spirited, I'll give you that . It's almost a shame I'm about to put an end to you.” The Guard finally spoke, a large grin filled with razor sharp teeth filled the expanse of his face, which was very thick set with a blocky jawline, the look only completed by a prominent hooked nose that had been distorted by scar tissue. Judging by his armour he did seem to hold a more senior rank than his peers, it was a small wonder they fell back slightly. The Druids however kept their distance as they kept their silent vigil, waiting to witness the conclusion to the fight, their oppressive auras already silencing the other prisoners. 

Shiro's mouth grew dry and his palms sweaty as he could feel the eyes of the Druids solely on him, sure he could not see those faces obscured by mask and cowl alike, but he knew. A bead of perspiration ran from his temple and down to his jaw as he tensed his jaw resolutely, steeling himself for an unknown result. Fear gripped his stomach with icy claws as he stared at the high ranking Galra, awaiting any slight twitch or change in expression. In this instance striking first would most likely prove fatal, first he needed to gauge his opponents speed and range of movement before all out attacking. A tactic which had offered him many victories in Zarcon's gladiatorial arena and thus aided in his reputation of being undefeated.   
One thought the prisoner couldn't shake was that despite what his rival had said in his attempt to goad him, they didn't seem to want him dead, he'd been observed too intently by the wraith-like Druids. No other prisoners seemed to be 'graced' with such visits, perhaps all he needed to do was prove himself to be able to receive a far more opportune moment to escape. 

After what had seemed like an eternity of staring each other down, the large Galran lunged forward offering Shiro the tiniest moment to duck out of range and allowing him to avoid loosing an eye. He spun around to try to take out the alien's leg to throw him off balance but his stance was low and wide, his stance was solid which sadly meant that Shiro would have to rely on more than just his cat like reflexes and brute strength.   
Their violent dance continued on for several minutes of them exchanging blows, shallow lacerations appearing on both competitors bodies as they both continued their 'game' of 'attack and evade'. As far as their skill was concerned they were equal, or somewhat close as they switched between slamming into each other or slashing and stabbing. 

Shiro's lungs felt fit to burst as his stamina was depleting fast and there was nowhere for him to run to catch his breath as he continued to try to keep up with his opponent of whom had an advantage of not being weakened by lack of food, dehydration and other injuries. It would seem that his captors wanted to test his limits and if he were truly honest with himself he was closer than he'd have the luxury to admit. His limbs burned more with every movement and the small knife seemed to grow heavier with each laboured movement as he tried to dodge the others blade. 

Finally his exhaustion gave in and he missed his footing allowing the Galran soldier to score a deep lateral incision across the bridge of his nose, his wound now matching that of his opponents scar. The whole thing was a sick joke as the aliens companions began to laugh and cheer at what could only be describes as tasteless branding. He wasn't sure if it was the humiliation or the thick metallic taste in his mouth as his blood ran into his mouth. There was so much of it, and it had hit home exactly how close to death he'd come seeing as a Galran blade could cut through flesh and bone as easily as it could cut though air, a centimetre more and perhaps it could have cleaved a part of his brain.   
The realisation had sent an overpowering sense of 'fight' or 'flight' through his being, he couldn't allow himself to die, not here and not while the Holts were captive. His body seemed to move on its own as he lunged at the other, caution had been thrown to the wind as he without caution or hesitation ducked out of reach before finally using that opening to plunge the knife deeply into the Galran's neck, giving it a little twist to ensure that his jugular artery was sufficiently severed. 

His opponent could only stare back at Shiro with disbelief as blood bubbled in his throat, no fear but the disbelief that a puny human of all things had bested him. 

Shiro's body felt as though it were on as his survival instinct had taken over and instead of running made to attack the others. 

He'd made to attack the next nearest guard only to be halted by a sharp pain in his right arm, his brain hadn't registered that it was now rended from his body was that it now lay in crumpled heap at his feet next to his opponent whose body was slightly twitching as though not convinced that he was already dead. 

With a shaky hand he pressed his palm against his stump in a vain effort to stem the rate of which he was bleeding, his eyes wide as glanced from the Galran's to his own severed arm, his clothes were now sticky and heavy as his own blood and sweat soaked into the fabric. The heightened bravado he'd experienced had been replaced with fear as he tried to put as much room between him and the guards. Again the Druids remained motionless while their interest seemed as strong as it had been before the duel. 

The scent of blood sweat and death filled his nostrils as he frantically searched for a gap yet it was hopeless and without his dominant arm there was a slim chance he'd survive. Tears trailed down his cheeks as he'd regretted losing his cool, but more than anything he regretted not being strong enough to escape, to liberate the slaves and his friends. There was no chance for him to do that if he were dead. 

His vision was growing dimmer as he sank to the floor, his skin cold and clammy as his complexion turned a little more pallid. His left hand was now slick with blood as he tried to put all his effort into gripping it hard as though his life depended on it... Though it actually did. Without medical attention or without someone cauterising the wound he'd bleed out completely. Breathing had also become increasingly difficult causing his head to become fuzzy as all his willpower was spent in just willing his body to keep working. Realistically it was futile , but even though he'd suffer less if he gave up, Shiro still remained stubborn. 

Despite the blurry vision, Shiro was able to focus slightly as one of the Druids glided forward until they were nose to nose, those cold breaths of theirs smelling of death and decay, and all he could do was stare blankly at the wraith-like being, he'd never thought that the last thing he'd see would be a creature that resembled the humans image of the embodiment of Death itself.   
“We're not done with you yet.” The druid hissed as thought he'd heard Shiro's thoughts, in fact this development was only but the beginning of what was to come and there was so much potential in his weakened prey, Hagar was bound to be pleased with such a morsel. 

“Wha--?” Shiro croaked weakly as his fear was coupled with confusion, what more could they want with a dying, now incomplete human? Was he not damaged goods by this point, not only that he'd all out slaughtered one of their brethren. 

“You'll understand in due time.” The Druid's hand glowed an eldritch hue of purple as it seemed to regard the injured man with a mild curiosity before prying Shiro's hand from his bloodied stump and placing a glowing hand on the severed flesh. 

The sound he'd made had not sounded human as the unnatural flame that consumed the Druid's hand seared his flesh, never before had he experienced pain quite so excruciating as an unholy smell invaded his nostrils, he wanted to vomit as the pain got too much to bear, fortunately before that he could feel the darkness take hold and soon he felt nothing.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After suffering severe blood loss Shiro is left to contemplate his options and Sendak shows his interest in the crippled 'champion'.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is a little shorter than the others as I just needed to set the scene a little before the meaty part of the story kicks in. Had a little too much fun writing Sendak in.

He hadn't been sure how long he'd been in such pitch darkness for, in fact he'd still convinced himself that he was dead, although what felt strange was how oddly at peace he was with suck a notion. Anything would be an improvement compared to his time as a prisoner of the Galra, but most of all being dead meant that those wraith-like Druids were no longer hovering around him like hungry vultures. 

Shiro's last memories had been of being face to face with the masked Druid, and in truth he'd never been so afraid as icy cold fire coursed through his arm and body causing him to black out. There were no words in any known human language to describe the level of fear and hopelessness, and pain he'd experienced in that moment, there probably never will. 

Gradually the numbness where his body usually was began to ebb away and now he became increasingly aware of how heavy it now felt, his head slowly began to pound as muffled voiced infiltrated the crushing silence he'd sought comfort in. Then it hit him- He hadn't died. 

Low groans escaped his lips as he finally forced his heavy eyelids open, he was now increasingly aware of the metal table at his back, and the harsh humidity of the room making it hard to breath although there was a high chance that had been due to the extreme blood loss he'd experienced, he felt weak and his heart was now beating rapidly despite the huge drop in blood pressure and his entire body was drenched in perspiration as it struggled to maintain consciousness. His entire body felt like it had been hit by a freight train that he couldn't pinpoint exactly which part hurt the most. He tried to bring his right hand up to wipe the sweat from his eyes but nothing happened, though he could feel the muscles in his arm working his hand never met his face, and it never would. 

“What the...” He croaked as he tried to figure out what was wrong with his body, had he not been in shock and drugged up to the eyeballs he'd have noticed and remembered that his arm had wound up on the prison floor. 

Eventually he glanced to the side to be met with the sight of his 'stump', there was still the slight smell of burned flesh in the room, or maybe that again had been a residual yet vivid memory from his last run in with the Druids and the Galran guards. 

He wanted to be sick, the information too much to handle and the sudden movements sending a wave of nausea through his body as he tried to escape. He landed in the floor with a heavy thud and was then met with the clattering of alien medical apparatus landing on the ground next to him, he hadn't even realised that he'd been attached to a lot of it. One of the needles had torn it's way out of his skin and blood was dripping down Shiro's last remaining arm as he crawled along the floor only to pass out from the pain as he accidentally tried to use his tender stump to drag himself as far as he could. 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

Shiro spent the next couple of days drifting in and out of consciousness in intervals only for the Galra to sedate him some more, he had no recollection of being placed on the gurney, but now there was a tightness across his chest, waist and legs as his captors saw fit to restrain their little project after his little stunt. Apparently in his last attempt to escape not only had he done more damage to himself, but some of the contraptions that had been attached to his body in the most invasive of ways.  
/Good.../ That was perhaps a small victory even if it was hollow. No matter what way he looked at it he was in no better position, he was still a prisoner, he was still to weak to make it out alone and he still had no arm, no doubt that wouldn't change. He couldn't vouch for Galran medical practices but on Earth prosthetics weren't quite up to par with acting like an actual limb.  
He was crestfallen as it dawned on him that this lack of dexterity would hinder him from continuing his work with the Garrison, that is, if he were to make it out alive, his skill as a pilot were almost considered legendary and now it was likely he'd never live up to those expectations again. Not only was that an immense blow to his pride, but the one thing Shiro couldn't bear was letting his peers and friends down, he'd placed so much of his self worth of being reliable that in his mind, he couldn't fall any lower.  
Low or not, he was resolute that he would make it out, he would do whatever it took to get him and his friends to safety, they just had to hand tight for a little longer. 

That day Shiro's mind was less foggy, and though he was still in a weakened state the nausea had subsided considerably and by comparison he seemed to be regaining some of his strength. On one hand that was great news, the Galra weren't about to end his life just yet- On the other, he dreaded to think of the reasons as to why they were aiding in his recovery, it was obvious that they weren't what he'd consider a charitable race. 

After giving his restraints a few experimental tugs, it became painfully clear that brute force was not going to get him out of this mess, the worst scenario he'd most likely have to pretend to go along with their whims until he they let their guard down long enough to take advantage of it, sadly there was no way of knowing exactly when that would be. 

“Patience yields focus...” He whispered hoarsely to himself in some weak attempt to steady his nerve and set his resolution. His captors as intimidating and advanced as they seemed to be, were not infallible. Even the most loyal, focused soldier couldn't remain so forever. Slowly he eased his eyes shut and clenched he left hand, making note of how the feeling of his nails felt as they bit into his skin, he was not losing consciousness again no matter how fatigue assaulted his body, he would not give in this time. 

His concentration however was broken as heavy footsteps entered the room, slowly he tilted his head to get a glimpse of the other being in the room, he was thankful that it hadn't been another Druid. Judging from the armour alone it seemed to be someone high ranking, possibly a Captain, or a Commander. There were similarities to the garb he and the first commanding class Galran soldier wore. However the one before him had a far more imposing feel to him, even though this soldier like himself had sustained an amputation of sorts, he still radiated confidence and strength. Not someone Shiro wished to take lightly if he could help it. 

He was probably somewhere between 7-8 ft tall, powerfully built with bat like ears, it was fascinating how different each member of the Galra could look, or perhaps after conquering so many planets there was no wonder they'd have that much h variation despite the common trait of being purple, tall with either yellow or purple sclera, the latter seemed to be a rarer genetic trait from the pilot's observation. However it was unlikely that it was a good point of reference as he only seen the ones on the ship or in the Colosseum. 

“I can't say that I'm impressed.” He finally spoke his voice was low and gravelly as he looked at Shiro the way one would look at livestock, then again that pretty much what he and the other slaves had technically been. “Of all the races in all of the galaxies the one that defeated Myzax was a pitiful human. Can' say that you live up to your reputation 'Champion'.” That last part was dripping with sarcasm, making the prisoner feel even dirtier and even more ashamed of his title than he already was, he hadn't even though it possible as he just stared at the what he assumed was a Commander. 

“What do you want with me?” Shiro croaked as he tried to maintain his composure,though it was hard to maintain any sense of dignity while strapped to a table with tubes and needles going in and out of places he never even knew he had. 

His 'companion's' lips curled into a mocking smirk as he hovered at Shiro's bedside, a large purple hand gripping his jaw in order to get a better look at the face of the man who had caused so much chaos since his arrival. His head felt so puny in his grip, it was laughable how easy it could be to crush his skull like a sparrows egg, but he didn't. 

“Personally, I don't want anything from you, I Sendak would wish nothing more than to terminate your pitiful life. The druids, however seem to have taken a shine to you. Aren't you a lucky one?”

Sendak finally released Shiro from his grip,his skin still marked from the claws digging into his skin. His attention now turned to to the humans stump of an arm which now flailed almost uselessly as the prisoner squirmed. In truth, he hadn't expected the man to be conscious, let alone coherent as those brown eyes as tired as they were shone with intelligence and spirit. A rare trait for a prisoner, maybe the fact that he still had some fight left in him could prove useful, but in failing that, breaking him on the other hand would prove somewhat amusing. 

“Then why did you come?” 

Shiro's blunt question would usually have been taken as an offence, yet all it did was evoke raucous laughter from the Galran Commander, yet he couldn't help but commend the mans attempt at bravado, not many were quite so spirited as he, no wonder this human had become the new favourite plaything for the Druids. Frankly Sendak wasn't a fan of them or their 'mumbo-jumbo' but still his Lord Zarkon seemed to trust in their abilities and there had been no arguments as to the results they had tended to yield. Idly the Galra trailed his fingertips along his own stump, there had been talk of a few improvements to be made to his damaged form also. For all his taunting there was a high change he'd be there before long, all in the name of the one that had trained him all these years. Sendak had pledged his fealty to Zarkon and whether through victory or death he's see it through even if he had to undergo such savage experimentation. Perhaps it would benefit him to keep an eye on the Earthling, perhaps given his documented bloodthirsty actions there may be some promise for the empire after all. 

“As I said before, I came to see the man responsible for taking up the mantle of 'champion' even to the point of injuring one of your own to seek such glory. Kind of makes me think how our races aren't so different after all, perhaps with the right nudge you could become something greater.” 

Shiro kept his silence despite inwardly crying out, his stomach churned and once more the fear stricken look on Matt Holt's face was etched in his mind. He'd never have taken a blade to him under any other circumstance, it was to save him, not for filthy things such as empty glory. As much as he wanted to spit in the Galran's face, he'd have to kiss his opportunity of escape goodbye it he didn't play the part or at least show some signs that he truly was as traitorous and back stabby as they seemed to think he was.

“Ah, so you're not content with my reply? Pity.” Sendak's imposing form loomed over Shiro, his face unbearably close as he continued his evaluation of the prisoner. Missing arm aside, the human was well built, the muscular atrophy caused by being left in a small cell and the low nutrition prison food seemed to not have set in quite so much compared to the other humans that had arrived with him. “We were hoping you'd be more of a 'willing' participant.”

“I get the feeling you'd do whatever it is either way. Your people don't seem to hold much regard for the will of others.”

Sendak just laughed, a slight spray of spittle caught Shiro in the face, had what he'd said been so amusing? Then again trash talking when crippled and bound didn't really offer much by ways of dignity. There really wasn't all that much he could do in his current situation. 

“You're spirited, I like it. However it will only take you so far, lets see how long it takes before we can crush that flame and replace it with something far greater. From what the Druids have seen of you in the arena you apparently you possess great strength and critical thinking. Military trained too.”

A few moments of silence passed between them as once more those large purple hands were on him and those eyes, one golden and one which was no doubt artificial judging by the thick lens embedded into that scar tissue. Shiro tensed up as he forced himself to maintain the eye contact, he couldn't afford so show a lack of fortitude now. 

“I'd like to see you try.” He hissed through clenched teeth,his head still pounding as some of whatever they had drugged him with seemed to have lingered. His body wished for nothing more than to slip back into that heavy slumber once more, Sendak's smooth yet mocking words kept hitting far too many chords with him. That comment about 'becoming something great' seemed like a twisted form of Dr Holt's words of encouragement had been. The words that had often spurred him on were unknowingly being used to goad him. He didn't want to be here, he needed to be with the Holt's, protecting them as he'd been assigned to do on the Kerberos mission. Nice to know how much he'd fucked up monumentally there. 

The Galran Commander moved away from Shiro and began to run his remaining hand along the machines that were recording the humans vitals thoughtfully before pausing. For the first time the alien had looked slightly more contemplative than when he'd first arrived.

“We could with someone like you in our ranks, our troops have grown weak and fickle.” His words turned bitter as he thought about his lost eye and arm. As a Commander he'd given over his very being for the cause, yet the new batch of troops were naught but cowards seeking only glory if offered on the coat tails of those greater. Sendak was sickened at the thought but this human piqued his curiosity as broken as his body was, his mind seemed sharp and focused even in the face of adversity, whether or not he was this bloodthirsty brute or not, he most likely could be bent to their will, he'd seen the Druids work with harder cases than this champion. “But enough about that, it will be interesting to see your development, soldier.” 

Sendak's grin was back in place as he sauntered out of the door leaving behind a sufficiently worked up Shiro who was now laying in that dimly lit room alone with his thoughts, the next few weeks were going to be both pivotal and interesting to say the least.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro becomes increasingly aware that that he's being kept alive for a reason, however Sendak's curiosity manifests itself in more ways than he'd anticipated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry my NSFW writing is hella rusty also trigger warnings for this episode are
> 
> -Torture  
> -Humiliation  
> -Dubcon  
> -Forced pleasure
> 
> Sorry for this sinful story haha.

It had become something of a routine for Sendak to check in on the surprisingly spirited human. After their encounter two weeks prior, Shiro had certainly began to regain his strength considerably considering how frail he'd gotten from his injuries. Naturally he hadn't been able to make his way down to the solitary confinement wing, too many druids lingering about for his liking. Of course those beings were vital to Zarkon's grand scheme and Sendak was not one to doubt his Lord, after all he had unwavering faith in their leader’s judgement. After 10,000 years of ruling most of the known galaxy there was hardly room to argue.

Placing a large hand over the control station, images of the prisoner from varying angles appeared on the screens, as if like clockwork he was already up and about despite the extreme isolation, and without as much as any way to keep track of time. Yet somehow this man seemed to maintain his routine despite their best efforts to break it. For the commander it was as frustrating as it was admirable, after all he had made it his purpose to break the Earth dweller’s spirit ready to make him conform to their regime, but in this time he was displaying traits he wished his own soldiers possessed.

In many ways he and Shiro shared a few common traits despite their different backgrounds, they were both essentially military trained, dedicated to their work and they both maintained a high degree of self-discipline. Even losing an arm hadn't stopped the prisoner from keeping active and keeping up with his training regimen. He looked fatigued from the sleep deprivation tactics yet he powered through each set, his body struggling as his left arm took the strain of that lean muscular build of his. In that regard he was physically different from the other two humans they had captured, his was a body that was supple, honed and, as proven in the arena, made to fight. Certainly, it was a shame to not find a way to use him.

 

There had been a few improvements to how he was treated, there was now a lumpy mattress for him to sleep on yet every three hours he'd get rudely awakened by the shrill cry of an alarm and a heavy banging on his cell door. It was like clockwork, yet as much as it was making his body and mind beyond fatigued he was also able to discern some kind of time reading. The awakenings would often occur roughly for four cycles then he'd be offered some form of food, not great but with seemingly higher nutritional value than the watery slop they served prior to the day he'd lost his arm. Clearly, the Galra did not seem to want him dead, or at least not in the foreseeable future, which was slightly comforting even if it set off alarm bells in his head. Every time Shiro would wake and his initial thoughts would be to question what they intended to do with him since they weren't killing him. The sleep deprivation, the lack of stimulation, the isolation and the jet stream style showers, all known torture tactics even back on Earth.

For some reason they wanted to break him, theirs were an advanced alien race, so there would be very little information he could offer that the Galra did not already know. In comparison, Earth tech was very primitive by those standards. The pilot's mind returned to his exchange with Sendak for the first time he'd 'connected' with one of his captors, not in a pleasant way yet this one seemed to engage him for some reason which was really out of the ordinary when he'd usually not get any words aside from a few barked orders and a sharp blow to the solar plexus or the back of his head. Sometimes there was a shorter stockier set commander with what looked like the Galran equivalent of mutton chops... Prorok? Then there was a tall skinny one that tended to remain silent or disinterested before taking notes and slinking off. Both of those two would take over from Sendak on occasion, given the slight differences in their uniform they probably headed other fleets.  
The druids still hovered about staring through the peephole before leaving as though they were mere apparitions.

One thing Shiro was sure of was that their visits were more frequent, samples were being taken on a regular basis and no doubt any time now they'd make their intentions known. 

Like before he had tried to break down the door, his left shoulder was left a mottled purple and black from the sheer force of slamming the entirety of his bodyweight into the door. He wanted to live, find a weakness in their prison and bring Dr. Holt and Matt back home, but more importantly the entirety of the planet Earth needed to learn of this new impending threat. This was no longer about him, after all they had been taken from Kerberos at the edge of their very own solar system, how long until the Galra came to lay waste to the blue planet he called home? That small planet with its diversity of life, natural wonders and rich history all but gone if Zarkon turned his sights there. There had been times where Shiro had often thought about how the Earth had turned a little rotten with injustice, yet being captured put it all in perspective, as corrupt as things had gotten, there was no way to recover if every drop of life was wiped out. His planet was full of sitting ducks, all going about their lives oblivious to the inevitable invasion, and here he was with this knowledge and trapped in a cell in only god knows where in the entirety of the ever expanding universe.

Often Shiro had been praised for his patience and focus, yet for the first time in his life he was rightfully desperate, every shred of honour in his body screaming for him to get out no matter the cost. However he'd have to think his way out, brute force hadn't worked and there were no prisoners nearby to incite to riot like last time, it would seem that the enemy had become wary and were less likely to underestimate him again.

Deciding that it was prudent to stick with his solid routine, Shiro began to stretch, ensuring that he didn't strain too much, though that was a slightly harder challenge during some sets where he had to rely on one arm and not two. It had been a frustrating feat all in all as the first time exercising since his amputation he’d pulled all of his left side and his core, but he was determined to remain in fighting form no matter what disadvantage he had. The Galra were not going to defeat him so easily and for that he needed to be sharp in both body and mind.

Ten minutes into his routine and he could feel the skintight material cling even closer to his skin, to his surprise that was actually possible and as expected it was a grim sensation as the perspiration soaked fabric started to chaffe and grow increasingly uncomfortable with each passing moment. Of course he'd persevere.

Low grunts escaped his lips as he finally decided to tackle the hardest part of his self-imposed regime... The pushups. He lost track of how many he'd done, the strain on his body offering far too much distraction as he fought to carry on, his thighs ached and his left arm burned to the point that he no longer registered it as a limb, in fact it was a mass of burning hot pain. Deciding that he might have managed about fifty reps, the pilot's arm gave way as he hit the metal floor hard, he was passed caring as he eventually found the will to sit up, ready to massage the pained arm only to realize that his right hand no longer reached.

/Damn phantom limb.../ Shiro hissed as he glanced up at the security camera with nothing but spite in his eyes. He'd been stripped of his dignity, his arm and his companions, he could feel the anger well up in his chest. Several threats and expletives flew freely from Shiro's tongue, no doubt he'd forget exactly what he has shouted. He was enraged enough to wish to provoke their ire, perhaps then he could break free.

Good news, his acting up had in fact grasped their attention, the bad news was that there were many of them all pinning him down taking no chances with the undefeated champion, even if he was by definition a cripple. Being under Sendak's command meant that they knew full well it was possible to come out fighting even with a limb or two missing. Deep down Shiro had hoped for sentries, at least those were pre-programmed and stupid, actual soldiers were a lot harder to manage and each one considerably larger than 95% of the human population. It wasn't long before he was fully subdued and bound as they dragged him unceremoniously along the floor.

“We've been assigned to help you 'cool off'.” The largest of the soldiers sneered as he grabbed him by the hair, “Gotta have you nice and presentable.” 

The hall was filled with raucous laughter, the guards obviously aware of something he wasn't as they made their way to a large chamber, possibly one that had been used for craft maintenance in the past, yet for Shiro, he knew it as the 'wash room'. And by wash it meant that they threw him down and hosed him down with a jet of water so strong it felt like his skin was about to tear free.

“Great.” The pilot muttered as he braced himself for what he'd assumed was a routine wash, after all this was an occurrence that happened every 2-3 days, nothing out of the ordinary. Or so he'd thought as he was hoisted up on his feet a meaty Galran paw gripping him roughly about the neck to the point his toes barely touched the ground. All he could do was gasp for air as they drank in every detail of his worn body. 

“So this guy was the undefeated Champion?” 

“Not was.... Still am.” Shirogane rasped back, sure he was bound, injured and outnumbered but he had every intention of ensuring he'd kick their asses once he was a free man, and boy was he going to savour every moment of it. 

“Didn't think the commander was so interested in such a mouthy whelp. Still who am I to come between him and his new toy am I right?” And with that last jab he tore the skin tight body suit from Shiro's body leaving only scraps of fabric hanging from his limbs. “I guess we better get started eh lads.”

Shiro was then tossed to the ground with a solid ‘thunk’ as he hit the metal surface with a huge amount of force that had taken the human's breath away. Slowly he staggered to his feet as best as he could, by this point all restraints had been removed ready for this moment. He hated how humiliating this must have looked as he tried to get into a fighting stance, he was most likely not cutting an imposing figure as his manhood flapped flaccid between his legs.

The other two Galrans jogged over to the machines that would soon spew an almost solid jet of water, both eagerly awaiting their leader’s signal to douse their prisoner.

“What are you gonna do? Beat us with that stump of yours?” The large Galra stood proudly with his hands on his hips as he admired the dirty battered mess that was the so-called 'champion'. “Okay, let him have it.”

There was no hesitation as he was hit simultaneously with both jets of water, the sheer force knocking him from his feet and back onto the ground, leaving him little choice but to brace himself for the pressure. He could feel his mouth and nose fill with water causing him to choke and splutter in a far from dignified manner- but he wasn't broken, after all this was nothing. All he had to do was tilt his head some more to prevent himself from drowning on dry land, they'd get bored soon or moved onto another duty and, with a little luck, perhaps that would happen sooner rather than later.

“Stand down.” A gruff commanding voice erupted from the entrance of the room, Shiro couldn't see clearly through the droplets of water falling into his eyes despite the hoses finally ceasing their deluge. The voice and the blurry figure could only belong to Sendak. Back when he'd been atop that table two weeks prior he'd never appreciated how colossal the commander was, and in that moment now, his mind not scrambled with drugs, he seemed a lot more threatening than he had before.

As ordered, the three guards left the room leaving the pilot with this beast of a Galra who was now scrutinizing him as though he were a piece of meat now he was drenched, naked and vulnerable, still he couldn't back down. So what, Sendak was huge... So was Myzaks and he'd taken him down relatively fast all things considering. 

Sendak however remained where he was, both his natural and synthetic eyes drinking in the sight of the prone human before him, his body was certainly impressive for a mere human. He was taller than the other specimens of his species, with a good amount of muscle and stamina, he was certainly a work of art. Pity that he was no longer 'whole'... Much like himself.

The commander’s train of thought had been halted abruptly as the prisoner tried to lunge at him only to be met with a solid back handed slap. What had the human expected? He was weakened and still slightly malnourished and when faced with an arm with the girth of a small tree trunk of course he was not going to stand a chance. 

“Still kept your spirit I see.” The Galra chuckled as he used his one remaining arm to pin Shiro to the ground, and while it was amusing watching the man slip in the puddle of water, he was more interested in the slight change in his prisoner’s manhood. “It seems you're not the only thing I got a little rise out of.”

“Shut up.”

“I think you forget who you're talking to boy.”

Sendak's amusement grew as Shiro continued to struggle against him only causing him to grow harder and harder. 

“Still I wonder...” Whilst still keeping his weight on his prisoner, the Galra reached down and dipped a meaty clawed hand between those milky pale thighs, his large fingers trailing along the other’s taint and along the edge of the scrotum before gently trailing upwards so he could grip the shaft. Given the sheer size of Sendak's hand it was a little awkward to grip, yet he was the kind to persevere, especially if it would eventually offer him a little entertainment. “.... If you humans share the same urges.” 

“Don't.” Shiro growled as he tried to move his hips so the alien couldn't continue to touch him there, though it turned out futile as it only made Sendak a little rougher and more forceful in his approach. The added aggression was not what horrified him but rather the fact he could feel himself growing harder by the second. He didn't want this, this was wrong on every level imaginable and here he was. Humiliated and at the mercy of a being that had helped to destroy and conquer worlds and his body decided that this was the perfect time to get a hard on. He felt disgusting and ashamed as that large rough hand began to traverse the length of his member, a claw gently trailing along the sensitive underside of his shaft. Sharp ragged breaths escaped his lips as he found himself moving his hips into the others touch and hating himself more with every single thrust.

“Who'd have thought something like this would be your undoing 'champion'.” Sendak leered as he continued his ministrations, the human's precum already beginning to trickle down his furry digits causing the hair to grow a little matted. “Those sounds you make please me.” 

“N...no.... stop...”  
“The thing is, I don't think you want me to. I bet you'd like nothing more than to just give in, I bet deep down you'd enjoy a nice bit of Galran cock. You may have acted reserved but you have needs... I'm no longer pinning you down and you're still going at it.”

“No...unhhhhhh.” An involuntary moan filled the room as Shiro was slowly beginning to peak, his movements a little more frantic as his body cried out for release. Yet this had been the first thing that hadn't caused him pain and compared to the torture this was at least bearable. His body felt as though it were on fire as his movements became feverish, the familiar tightening in his abdomen and that build up at the base of his cock was getting too much to bear. It took a few more frenzied movements before that final wave of unwanted pleasure washed over him as he arched his back and cried out ejaculating over his stomach and Sendak's hand and forearm

Nausea filled him as he realised the thoughts that had crossed his mind, had he seriously tried to justify what Sendak was doing to him? And for the first time it dawned on him that maybe he'd not kept himself together as much as he'd thought. 

With that notion in his mind he found the strength to scramble free from Sendak who just looked at him with a sly knowing grin. 

“Hit a nerve did I?” He teased as he lapped Shiro’s ejaculate from his fingertips, it was surprising how good human's 'tasted', he was certainly going to indulge in the prisoner a little more, but for now he'd back off. 

“No matter, you will be seeing me again, 'Champion'.”


End file.
